


A Summer Break

by orphan_account



Category: Castle
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-22
Updated: 2011-09-22
Packaged: 2017-10-23 22:57:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"It's creepy to stare at people."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	A Summer Break

**Author's Note:**

> A YoungCastle story, written for callsign_buzz for Castleland's gift-giving gala.
> 
> Spoilers for The Final Nail, I suppose.

It had only been fifteen minutes, but he felt like he'd been waiting forever.  

 

Ricky scuffed his shoes idly against the shiny linoleum floor.  The waiting area was set back from the corridor in a little alcove, giving him a perfect view of the many people passing by.  The hallway seemed endless, stretching from the nearby ER all the way to who-knew-where.  Doors led off the corridor into various hospital departments and then there were the other little waiting areas, almost identical to this one, where other people like him sat waiting for their turn to be seen by the medical staff.  

 

He passed the time as he always did, observing and mentally describing the scene around him.  Nurses and doctors hurried past.  Patients in gowns or pyjamas shuffled by, dragging drips or clutching their thin nightwear tightly against their bodies in a futile attempt at modesty.  Visitors wandered along peering anxiously at signs as they searched for the right department.  

 

At least he wasn't in the children's section of the ER this time.  That place had made him want to lie on the floor and scream (like so many of the other inmates, apparently).  At fifteen, he wasn't quite an adult, but he was far beyond those screaming brats with their anxious parents.  His mother's absence was proof of that.  

 

Another doctor rushed past in a blur of scrubs accompanied by two nurses and a cart of equipment.  Perhaps there was an emergency somewhere.  An elderly lady wandered by, her face a vacant mask as she was nearly ploughed into by two orderlies wheeling an empty bed along the corridor.  She tripped along, oblivious to the chaos in her wake as the orderlies swerved at the last minute.  A man limped past on crutches, pausing briefly to lean against the wall and scratch around the cast encasing the lower half of his left leg.  Ricky felt his arm itch in sympathy beneath the heavy plaster of his own cast.  There was nothing so frustrating as an itch that was unreachable.  

 

The boredom of waiting was almost outweighed by the wealth of stories playing out before him.  If only he could have written his observations in the little notebook that he'd taken to carrying around (and it was _not_ creepy, whatever his mom said).  

 

He was trying to come up with the perfect phrase to describe the distinctive hospital smell when he became aware that he was being watched.  He looked up -- and then down -- to see a little girl with dark hair in messy pigtails standing before him.  She was studying him and made no attempt to hide that fact, even when he looked straight at her.  

 

"It's creepy to stare at people."  He smiled slightly to show that he wasn't scary.  

 

She was clearly unintimidated.  "What happened to your arm?"  Her voice was nasal and he leaned back inadvertently, not wanting to catch whatever little kid germs she was incubating.  

 

"I broke it."  

 

She tipped her head back, revealing sore red-looking nostrils.  "I got Lego up my nose."  

 

"You put a piece of Lego up your nose?"  He suppressed laughter.  Perhaps that explained the nasal quality of her speech.  

 

"Nuh-uh.  Two pieces."  She sounded extremely proud.  "They got one out already but the other one is further up."  Her nose wrinkled.  "We have to wait for the doctor to get it.  It's _way_ up inside.  They took a picture of my head.  The inside."  

 

"An x-ray?"  

 

"Maybe.  It was weird but cool."  

 

He was no stranger to odd incidents requiring a trip to the ER, but he had to ask anyway.  "Why did you put the Lego up your nose?"  

 

She looked at him as though the answer was obvious and he was stupid for asking the question.  "To hide it."  

 

He'd been on the receiving end of many such looks, but never from a child so young.  He liked her already.  

 

"My cousin Johnny always takes all the red bricks 'cause he knows I like the red bricks best, so I took the fireman because that's his favourite and I hid it."  

 

"Up your nose."  

 

"Yes.  Then I found a red brick that he'd missed so I hid that too but it was too big to hide properly so Daddy brought me here and the nurse got it out real quick.  How did you break your arm?  Did it hurt?  Did you cry?"  She peered closely at the cast.  "Why did you write on it?"  

 

"Whoa, whoa."  He held up his uninjured arm.  "One question at a time.  It's a long story.  Yes, it hurt a lot but I was very brave and didn't shed a single tear."  He grinned.  "And I didn't write on it.  I can't, I'm right-handed.  When you get a cast it's traditional to get your friends to write on it."  

 

"Those are all your friends?"  She sounded mildly impressed as she studied the many names adorning his arm.  

 

"Yes."  He hoped her reading skills weren't up to actually understanding the words.  

 

"You're friends with a duke?  And a princess?"  

 

Damn.  "They're nicknames."  _It'll make you look more popular, Ricky, darling._ His mother could have had the decency to invent realistic names.  Thankfully the cast would be off before he went back to school next week, or he'd never live it down.  

 

The little girl seemed to buy his excuse.  "My grandpa calls me princess sometimes.  Is it a good story?"  

 

"What?"  Her abrupt jump back to her first question threw him for a moment.  "Oh, how I broke my arm?  Yeah, it's good."  The lie came easily.  "It's long though."  

 

"I like stories."  She pulled herself up onto the chair next to him and got comfortable.  "Tell me."  

 

"Okay."  He was a bit bemused by the attention she was giving him.  He wasn't used to being around younger children.  There were the little kids in school, but he didn't really mix with them (he barely mixed with the older kids either, although things were getting better since he'd been befriended by Damian Westlake).  Growing up as an only child had been somewhat lonely, and he'd occasionally wished for a sibling so that he'd have someone to talk to.  His mother and  _Frank_ had got him out of the house now, so maybe they'd have a baby of their own and he'd get to be a cool older brother.  Maybe _Frank_ would even let him visit at weekends instead of only letting him come home for the vacations-  

 

"Well?"  

 

"Impatient little princess, aren't you?"  

 

"Yes."  She was utterly serious.  

 

"Okay, well, my story starts in Egypt-."  

 

"Ee-gypt?"  She stumbled slightly over the word.  "Why were you in Ee-gypt?"  

 

"I was visiting my dad.  He's an archaeologist.  Anyway, we were exploring some newly discovered ruins…"  

 

He began to spin her a tale much more fantastic than the truth.  He wasn't going to tell this little kid that he'd been trying to impress some of the other boys at school by climbing the tallest tree in the grounds.  It was just his luck to land on his right arm when he misjudged the strength of a branch.  

 

She stared up at him in awe as he added details about the series of mysterious deaths that had plagued their travelling party.  If a few influences from his favourite movies slipped into his story from time to time, there was no harm in it.  She was barely more than a baby so she'd never know.  Just in case though, he resisted the urge to include lightsabers.  

 

He had felt the thrill of seeing his words in print several times since he'd discovered the school magazine.  Actually witnessing how his words could enthral an audience (even if it was an audience of one) was quite a new experience, however.  There was rarely anyone around willing to listen.  Damian Westlake himself had said that Ricky had a talent (a _great_ talent, in fact) for writing.  Maybe he also had a talent for _telling_ the story.  

 

He was just recounting how he had struggled valiantly out of the collapsed ruins, carrying his injured father on his shoulders, when he caught sight of something in the corridor that made him trail off mid-sentence.  

 

"What happened next?"  The little girl was looking at him impatiently.  

 

"Next?"  He spared her a glance before looking back to the hurricane in the hallway.  It was getting nearer.  "We got out and were airlifted to safety."  

 

"Ricky, darling."  His mother swept into the alcove in a flurry of scarves and animal print.  "I'm sorry I'm late.  I got called back for another audition and you _know_ how important this role could be.  I couldn't get hold of Frank but I knew you'd be okay on your own…"  

 

He rather thought that he might have inherited his talent for storytelling from his mother.  After kissing him lightly on the cheek she swept off back down the corridor wailing about her poor little boy being left in agony for hours by the heartless nursing staff.  

 

"Thank you for the story."  The little girl's eyes were fixed on his, her expression serious.  "I know you made it up."  

 

He was momentarily lost for words, until her childish giggle made him smile.  

 

She pushed a stray hair behind her ear.  "I've seen those movies too."  

 

It was his turn to laugh.  "You're way too young to be watching things like that."  

 

She huffed.  "Mommy and Daddy watched them and they thought I was asleep but I wasn't."  Her nose wrinkled.  "Your story was better than the movies.  I liked it."  She smiled then, a gap-toothed grin that he couldn't help responding to.  

 

"You're welcome."  

 

"Uh-oh."  She was looking over his shoulder now.  "I gotta go."  She jumped down and scampered back along the corridor.  

 

He watched as she was greeted by a frantic-looking man.  Her father, probably.  The poor man must have been looking everywhere for her.  He wouldn't have noticed that she was missing at first -- probably had his head buried in a magazine, trying to hide his worry over his daughter's injury.  Lego up the nose wasn't life-threatening, but that didn't matter, it was his little girl and she was in pain.  Why were they taking so long to come back for her?  He'd glanced up to check on her when he had realised that she'd gone.  His stomach had plummeted to his boots and his heart was in his mouth as he dropped the magazine and stood up to search for her.  Where was she?  Why had she run off?  What if-

 

"Ricky Rodgers?"  A young blonde nurse was standing before him holding his notes.  "I'm sorry, we're running a bit late.  You can come in now."  

 

He spared a final glance at the little girl clutching her father's hand as they headed back towards the ER.  Then Ricky turned and walked into the examination room.  

 

 **End**

**Author's Note:**

> Three things:
> 
> 1\. I sincerely apologise for all the they-met-as-children cliches that have somehow wandered into this fic… ;)
> 
> 2\. I am in no way advocating the hiding of Lego up noses. Don't do it, kids. Ditto for the climbing of tall trees.
> 
> 3\. I'm Welsh, so I have absolutely no experience with US hospitals (unless you count vague memories of my mother watching Noah Wylie on ER). Sorry for any inaccuracies.


End file.
